Texting Under the Influence
by Faye Dartmouth
Summary: If Billy's drunk and texting Michael, then he's really drunk.


**  
Title: **Texting Under the Influence

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Chaos.

**A/N: **More silly h/c. Beta by **sockie1000**.

**Summary:** If Billy's drunk and texting Michael, then he's_ really _drunk.

-o-

Michael gets the text at 1 AM.  
_  
Corner Pub. ASAP.  
_  
He frowns, and considers ignoring it. It's 1 AM, and a bar is hardly a place for some kind of national emergency. Especially since it's from Billy.

Billy is rarely up to anything good at 1 AM and he rarely does anything productive while in a bar. He knows for a fact that Billy's not working any side missions right now, and while it's possible that he might meet an asset in a bar at 1 AM, Michael deems it highly unlikely given Billy's history.

Usually, if Billy's in a bar, he's drinking.

If Billy's drinking at 1 AM, he's probably drunk.

If Billy's drunk and texting Michael, then he's_ really _drunk.

Leaving him there would serve him right, but...

But Michael can't leave him there. If Billy is drunk, then he could be compromised. And even if there's no national security risks in a local bar at 1 AM, there are plenty of other ways for an intoxicated Scotsman to get into trouble. The last thing he needs is to explain to Higgins why one of his operatives is out on bail for being drunk and disorderly.

Which means...

Michael groans and gets out of bed.

-o-

Michael has been to this bar before - it's one of Billy's favorites. It has little to do with the quality - the place is a dump - but much more with proximity. It is the closest bar to Billy's motel room, and Billy, as it turns out, is excessively lazy.

The drive is quick at 1 AM, and Michael is thinking of ways punish Billy for this offense of common sense and decency when he rounds the corner and has his worst fears confirmed.

Police lights. And an ambulance.

Michael groans again. He should have stayed in bed.

-o-

Parking down the street, Michael gets out. The cool early morning air has his adrenaline pumping as he jogs down the street. There's a small crowd of witnesses, and someone is being asked to walk in a straight line. Michael scans the crowd, looking for the familiar face, and comes up short.

A cop stops him. "Hey, buddy. Can't go any further."

Michael frowns and strains to look around him. "I have a friend-"

"Yeah, well, I've got a crime scene," the cop says.

It's a frustratingly valid answer. Michael has seen and done more than this guy ever will, but as a CIA officer, Michael has no standing on American soil. He's a civilian.

"I know that," Michael says, trying not to sound like he was annoyed as he was. "But I was just looking for-"

Then, he hears a familiar yelp. Scottish and pained. Michael looks around the crowd, even peaks in the back of a police cruiser before his eyes settle on the ambulance.

Michael's stomach drops when he sees Billy, strapped to a stretcher.

This time when the cop tries to stop him, Michael pushes past him and doesn't look back.

-o-

Billy's gurney is being wheeled to the ambulance, and at first, all Michael can see is the medical equipment and blood. Billy's shirt is gone, and there are splotches of red that glint in the flashing police lights.

"Billy," Michael says, standing next to one of the medics. "Is he-?"

"Conscious, yes," the first medics says.

"Very drunk, yes," the second medic adds.

On the gurney, Billy's neck is strapped down to a neck brace but he still grins when he sees Michael. "Michael!"

The tension unfurls in Michael's chest. Up close, the damage isn't_ that _bad. Billy's got a gash along his rib cage, which is seeping blood, but it's not deep. It'll need a few stitches, but it's not the worst Billy has had. He's got a nasty black eye, though, and half of his hair is matted with blood.

"What happened?" he asks.

Billy looks at him earnestly. "Did you get my text?"

"Yeah," Michael says. "But you didn't tell me what happened."

"Well, you know how I said ASAP?" Billy asks.

"Yeah," Michael replies.

"Apparently you_ weren't _quite fast enough," Billy tells him seriously.

Michael rolls his eyes and looks at the medic. "He didn't start a fight, did he?"

The first medic shrugs. "Beats me."

The second shakes his head. "Cops got the guy who started it in the back of the car," he says. "Apparently the dude has a list of priors. Your friend here may be drunk out of his mind, but he stopped something far worse by all accounts."

As if on cue, there's another shriek - more feminine this time - and Michael barely has time to look up when he's being flung out of the way and a well-endowed blonde is throwing herself on top of Billy's gurney.

"Oh, no," she sobs. "You can't die!"

The medic tries to pry her off. "He's going to be fine," he says.

She sobs again. "He saved my life!" she says.

Michael took her by the arm. "What do you mean?"

She turns and looks at Michael tearfully. "My boyfriend," she says. She sniffles and wails again. "It was all my fault! He was going to kill everyone!"

"Now, now," Billy says from the gurney. "Georgia-"

"Gina," she corrects.

"Georgia is better," Billy says. "But at any rate, he was only going to seriously maim a few people. And he had _terrible _aim."

"But you're_ bleeding,_" she says, reaching over to stroke Billy's face. "How can I make it up to you?"

Billy smiles. "That's not necessary-"

She bends over and kisses him.

Billy grins wider. "I'm sure we'll work something out."

At this point, Michael has seen enough - and so has the medics.

"Okay, we're moving," the first says, moving the girl out of the way as the second pushes Billy's gurney to the ambulance.

"Call me!" Gina calls.

The first medic rolls his eyes and moves to the front of the rig.

The second looks at Michael. "You coming?"

"Yeah, sure," Michael says, climbing in.

"I'll just be a minute to get our things," the second says.

In the ambulance, Michael settles in the seat above Billy's head. "A bar fight?"

Billy hums, closing his eyes. "You saw the lovely Gina."

Michael smirks. "Georgia, you mean?" he says. He reaches out, jostling Billy. "And I don't think you're supposed to sleep."

Billy opens his eyes. "Head injury isn't so bad," he says.

Michael tilts his head to look at it. "It's not so good either," he comments. "What were you thinking?"

Billy meets his gaze, and he's surprisingly sober. Or really, not so surprising. Billy can hold his liquor better than most men, and Michael's picked him up off the floor before, but not that often and not without good reason.

No, the truth is, Billy texts him at 1 AM not because he's too drunk to get home but because he's lonely. He's on his own and he needs backup. Emotionally and physically. Billy doesn't have anyone else. There's no one to miss him at 1 AM in a lonely bar. As much as Michael complains, he'll come every time.

Billy smiles slightly. "Gina's boyfriend is Russian," he says.

Michael shrugs. "So?"

"So," Billy says. "Russian mafia. Gina has dated all of them."

"And you know this how?" Michael asks.

Billy gives him a plaintive look.

Michael scoffs. "So you _did _pick the fight," he realizes.

Billy hums again, blinking lazily. "And gained the loyalty of a potential informant for years to come," he says. He looks at Michael crookedly. "You said you needed an in on the Lenkov case."

For a second, Michael gapes. "You're serious," he says.

Billy lifts one shoulder minutely. "You don't think I'd text you at 1 AM for no reason, do you?"

Michael chuckles, patting Billy on the arm. "I guess not," he says. "You did make me get up at 1 AM, though."

Billy snorts. "And I may have solved your case for you," he says. "I think we may be even."

That's when the medic returns. "Okay," he says, closing the doors behind you. "You two ready to go?"

"You bet," Billy says, his words slurring again.

Michael grins. "Yeah," he says. "I think we're good." 


End file.
